


The Divine Tragedy

by Riemann



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-08 07:24:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7748533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riemann/pseuds/Riemann





	1. Highway to Hell

It was quarter past midnight in Detroit, Michigan and Sam had just dozed off beside Dean in his beloved 1967 Chevrolet Impala. Sam found it a little easier to depart to Dreamland partly because the overwhelming sound of the roaring of the Impala’s engine was absent, and partly because they had decapitated a whole nest-full of ghouls minutes ago.

The silence was deafening and Sam was drifting in limbo. Out of nowhere, an earsplitting sound of _Highway to Hell_ broke his sub-conscious flow and he was back in the car, his brother pointing a flashlight directly at his eyes.

“Wakey wakey, little brother!” Dean yelled over the noise.

Sam, with his eyes half-opened, said groggily, “What the hell are you doing?”

Pointing his flashlight back to the newspaper he had in front of him, he replied, “What the hell does it look like I'm doing?”

“Looking for a case?”

“Yathzee!” Dean said, not taking his eyes off the newspaper.

“Come on! Can’t we have the night off? We just ganked a bunch of ghouls,” he said, closing his eyes.

“How about this for a job?” Dean said excitedly, ignoring Sam’s words. “‘Local found dead in his house, his body turned _inside-out_ ’!”

Dean gave his signature smile. “Sounds like the real deal to me.”

“How’s that even possible?” Sam said with a contorted look on his face.

“One way to find out.”

He threw the newspaper in the back-seat and revved the engine of the car. “It’s not even that far. Just fifteen states over.”

_“Fifteen?”_

“What? You wanna hear fifty?”

“I don’t care how many states over you take me,” Sam said sleepily. “I need my four hours’ sleep.”

Dean shrugged. Just when he was about to throw the flashlight at the back too, it flickered for a second or two and the radio in the car went berserk. Dean turned the radio off and slowly pulled out his gun as he exchanged a soulful look with Sam. They both knew what that meant – a ghost. Sam took his gun out too and his sleepy mood flew out of the window.

They looked around for the ghost but there was complete silence for what seemed like forever. All of a sudden, Sam saw a figure appear behind Dean which, he was pretty sure, was the ghost.

“Dean, get down!” Sam shouted.

Not wasting a moment, Dean ducked down and in a synchronized motion Sam pulled the trigger. The figure vaporized immediately after getting hit by the bullet. It didn’t mean the ghost had died. It meant that it was all the more pissed off.

“What the hell is going on in this town?” Dean said, his eyes wide open.

“Beats me!”

“I thought it was ghoul case! We killed the ghouls!”

“Maybe it’s their ghost?” Sam said uncertainly.

“Ghoul-ghost? Now that just sounds stupid.” Dean said, eyeing the concrete jungle of Detroit before them. His body filled with horror as he realized what was going on half a block away. He nudged Sam on the ribs, who was looking behind the car for the ghost, and pointed directly ahead of them, his eyes dead-set.

“What the…?”

It was the gang of ghouls they had killed minutes ago. “How did they-” Sam was interrupted by a thunderous noise from above. It was as if something was jumping up and down as hard as they could on the car’s roof. The shock of seeing the ghost and the ghouls had yet to settle in, and they were nowhere ready to face what was up on the roof.

“Dean! Drive…fast!” Sam yelled over the noise.

Dean stepped on the gas pedal and the car hurtled through the black-pitch running over some ghouls on its way.

“Faster! The ghouls are following us.”

“I'm driving as fast as I can!” Dean shouted angrily.

The good news was that ghouls were extremely slow runners. The bad news was that ghouls were the least of their worries at the moment. Whatever was on the roof of the car was still there, jumping its ass off. Dean made a sharp turn and at that moment whatever it was, fell off the roof and the car ran over it.

“What was that?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Dean said, focusing intently on the road ahead.

Another jolt of surprise hit them as they saw another figure on the road, another ghoul possibly, with its arms wide open, trying to block them.

“Alright, hang on Sammy,” Dean said, speeding up the vehicle, his eyes flashing with grueling determination.

Just before the car hit the figure, they got a brief glimpse of it. As brief as it was, they were dead sure of what they had just seen. And it wasn’t a ghoul.

“Was that a-”

“Vampire?” Sam stole the words out of Dean’s mouth as they shared another scared-to-death-look.

“I reiterate…what the hell is going on in this town?”

Just after he said that, a shtriga appeared on the road.

“Oh, come on! Another monster? Is every single son a bitch we’ve ever hunted going to pay us a visit tonight?”

“Just keep going, Dean!” Sam said in a panicky voice.

“Does it look like I'm stopping?”

Shtrigas, another kind of monsters, aren’t that strong a creature, so it wasn’t difficult for the ’67 Impala to knock it over. But it was a hell of a lot faster than most creatures. “It’s following us, Dean,” Sam said, looking back. “Step on it!”

“Screw the Shtriga! Is that a werewolf?”

It didn’t take much time for Sam to realize that about two hundred meters ahead of them was a fully transformed werewolf.

“Even the lunar cycle isn’t right!”

“Gee, Sammy, you think?” Dean said, hoping for a little more than that. “We won’t be able to knock that bastard down. It’s too strong. What do we do?”

It was only about a hundred meters away now, and it was getting closer by the moment. They had to think quickly. Then it hit him. “We injure it,” Sam said after a moment’s thought. “We shoot it. Where are the silver bullets?”

One dose of silver would either temporarily paralyze or kill the werewolf, and many other monsters, depending on the part of its body where the silver hit them. _Genius,_ Dean thought, pulling his pistol out of his pocket. 

“Here,” Dean said as he passed Sam the pistol.

“Alright. You keep driving, I’ll shoot it, and you run it over.”

Dean nodded. He speeded up the car while Sam stuck half his body out of the car and aimed at the werewolf. He knew that his timing had to be exact, that he and Dean would have to, in a sense, have telepathic connection. If he were to shoot too late, they would crash right into the werewolf, and if he were to shoot too early, the werewolf would have enough time to recover from the wound, at least temporarily. The werewolf was getting closer much faster than Sam had expected probably because the werewolf was rampaging towards them too. Sam would have to rely entirely on his instincts. He’d had this sort of practice for years, thanks to his father who raised them like warriors; and more often than not, he’d wished for a different life, a normal apple-pie life, with a girlfriend, college, children, grand-children…  

 _Little bit closer,_ a voice in his head said, shoving him back to reality. _Little bit more…closer…closer…now!_ Said the voice just before the car hit it, and he pulled the trigger just at the right moment. _Yes!_ Sam told himself. The bullet hit the creature on its left thigh and it splintered for a moment.

That was all they needed, the werewolf injured for just a moment; dead would have been better but injured was just as good. Then it was simply a matter of ramming it with the vehicle.

They breathed a sigh of relief after they passed the werewolf. Meanwhile, the shtriga, the vampire and somehow the “slow-running ghouls” were still following them. And they seemed to be a lot faster than the last ones they’d seen.

“They’re still on our asses, Dean.”

“Shoot them!” Dean said, not taking his eyes off the road, just in case something else appeared to stop them again.

Dean kept driving while Sam turned around, aimed at the vampire and shot it. The bullet hit it right on its head and it fell flat on the ground. He shot down the ghouls one by one and the only monster still left standing was the shtriga. Shtrigas were normally immune to silver, but since he had no other option, he shot it. As expected, the bullet didn’t affect it. It was still running towards them, a lot faster than the four-decade-old car.

After that, something happened that churned Sam’s stomach to pieces. The ghouls and the vampire that Sam had just shot got back up and they started running towards them.

“Dean, they won’t die,” Sam bellowed, with a scared look on his face.  

“We’ve got bigger things to worry about right now,” Dean pointed straight ahead.

And indeed it was big. It was a chupacabra…and a huge one; or maybe not a chupacabra at all; it was too huge to be one! It was the size of a medium-sized building! _What the hell is that?_ Dean thought to himself.

“Silver hurts chupacabras, right?” Sam asked.

“It should,” Dean replied. “But we’re living in a world where ghouls can _run_ and are immune to silver…so I don’t know…”

“Good enough for me.” Again, he stuck half his body out of the car and this time without wasting any time at all, he started shooting it because he wasn’t even hundred percent sure that it was a chupacabra. They hadn’t ever seen one this big.

And their worst fear came true. The silver didn’t affect the creature at all. Normally, even a touch of silver would burn its flesh but now it was almost like it was wearing a ‘silver-proof jacket…made of chupacabra skin.’

They had no choice but to stop the car. If they were to hit the thing, the car would get totaled and they would have an uninjured but a seriously pissed off giant-chupacabra on their tails.

“What do we do? What do we do?”

“I don’t know!” Dean said incredulously.

“The ghouls, the vamp and the shtriga….” Sam turned around, and his face showed utter terror.

“What?” Dean turned back too.

It wasn’t only a gang of ghouls, a vampire and a shtriga anymore. It was a gang of ghouls, vampires (plural!), shtrigas (plural!), wendigos, the werewolf fully recovered from the silver bullet ( _Since when does that happen?_ Dean asked himself), changelings, Daevas, and as far as they could tell, the entire monster army on Earth, only stronger because their weaknesses weren’t what they used to be. It was as if every single monster that existed had gathered at Michigan specifically to kill them.

There was no way out. A chupacabra-giant blocking their way ahead and another army blocking their way behind them, they were locked inside an Iron Maiden clad in monsters instead of steel.

“What’s the plan?”

“If we go down, we go down swinging! That’s the plan,” Dean said, reloading his gun, his eyes reflecting fear but alacrity at the same time.

He was right. There was no other choice. They both knew their end of the job. They looked at each other, took a deep breath and Sam reloaded his gun.

“You take the big thing, I’ll take the army,” he said.

Dean nodded. And a second later, they were out of the Impala, a garrison of angry monsters on one side, and a pissed-off gigantic monster they’d never seen on the other. Finally, the brothers were out in the open, their guns blazing, and the resonating sound of _Highway to Hell_ still in their heads knowing that they may well be on _their_ highway to hell….


	2. A Battle With The Undead

They were out of the car in a flash, and as soon as they got out, they started shooting anything that moved. But it was like shooting zombies. The bullets literally had no effect on _any_ monster. Dean took on the chupacabra-giant and Sam took on the faction of monsters. The crowd was pretty far away from Sam so he had time to flip open the trunk of the car and grab anything more dangerous than a 9 millimeter. He took two sawn-off shotguns off the trunk with a bunch of its bullets.

“Dean!” he called out to his brother who was busy shooting the giant. It looked like a squirrel shooting dry peas with a peashooter at a human. Dean looked back and Sam passed him the shotgun and a few of its bullets. Dean dodged a punt from the chupacabra-giant and that gave him enough time to load the shotgun. He cocked it and shot right at its face as soon as he got the chance. It gave a wail of pain so loud that the ground seemed to vibrate from within.

Dean reloaded the shotgun as he dodged another fatal kick. The chupacabra-giant was moving so violently that Dean could no longer target at its face, so he did the next best thing he could. He shot at it randomly.

 

Sam, on the other lane, was occupied too with a whole army of monster tearing-ass towards him. “Come get me, bastards,” he muttered and started shooting randomly at every creature with the sawn-off. Every monster he hit fell straight down to the ground due to the impact of the bullet, but about ten seconds later, got back up and started charging towards him again. He knew he wouldn’t survive this riot for long but he didn’t have any other choice. It was either run and die, or fight and die, and frankly if they fought and die, they’d at least die with some dignity. So he was intent on shooting down as many as he could before they could get too close to him.

On the other side, Dean was being manhandled by the chupacabra-giant. It had picked him off the ground and was now tossing him around playfully. Dean hadn’t let go of his shotgun yet but he might as well have. It didn’t hurt the chupacabra-giant as long as he didn’t shoot in his face and there was no way Dean could aim at anything, let alone the face, considering he had trouble even holding on to the piece of wood that gave him a small amount of reassurance that he had a “weapon” on him.

It shouted something in a voice that was as harsh as it was incomprehensible, holding him by the back of his neck.

“Screw you!” Dean yelled at the top of his lungs.

The chupacabra-giant sighed. “Humans…such arrogant amoebas!”

“Bite me!”

“Okay,” it said indifferently and tossed Dean right into its mouth.

“NO!” Dean shouted and a second later he was inside the chupacabra-giant’s mouth. He felt fear of scale he hadn’t known existed. Literally being broken down into pieces by _teeth_ awoke a rush of terror in him like never before. The entire world was violently shaking. Not knowing what to do, and barely even in control of his own body, he did the only thing that he could. He pulled the trigger of his shotgun. There was a deafening bang of the bullet being shot, and then everything went still.

Dean froze too because he didn’t know what to think or expect. He didn’t dare move because one wrong motion could cost him his life. All he could do was hope. Hope that he would survive this death-defying feat because he, more than anyone, knew that he could end up dead in the next few seconds. But everything was still motionless. _Maybe it’s dead,_ he thought, with a hint of triumph building up inside him.

Oh, how wrong he was. The next thing he knew, he was flying out of its mouth, soaked in its saliva. As it turned out, it wasn’t dead, but the inside of its mouth wasn’t as bullet-proof as its body.

Everything after that happened in slow motion. Time seemed to stretch to an extraordinary extent. He had enough time to stare at the ugly face that had just spat him out smeared in red. He had enough time to feel triumphant that he had just hurt the giant, even though he was in free fall. He had enough time to turn his head to look at his brother struggling to survive an army of hell, and he had enough time to hear Sam yell “Rock s-”, after that he could hear nothing, and frankly that was the least of his worries, and he had enough time to realize that he might die in a few milliseconds because he might as well have just fallen out of the topmost window of a _building_. He had enough time to wait for the fall to come and actually get scared and finally, he fell on the ground with a sickening thud and instantly passed out.

 

Sam, however, was alive as ever and was shooting away every monster within range. He’d never fought an army of monsters this big. The closest he’d been to this situation was when there were mere five Daevas in a building compared to now’s more than twenty bullet-proof creatures. And he hadn’t even been fighting solo then. His brother and his father had been beside him in the battle which had offered him some amount of consolation.

Every bullet he shot bought him enough time reload another one and shoot again. They were still pretty far away, though closing in quickly, so he had enough time to fumble as quickly as possible for different kinds of bullets and experiment to find out which one did the most damage.

Silver was as good as a punch in the gut. Good old iron did nothing more than make them stumble. Anything else did practically no harm at all. _Come on, come on, they’re getting closer._

Desperation was setting in and it was really causing him to panic. The only type of bullets left in the spacious trunk of the Impala was rock-salt-bullets. _Oh, what the hell!_ Sam thought and loaded the shotgun with a couple of them. _Please work,_ he thought anxiously and shot one right through a vampire’s eye.

He was hoping against hope for it to slow down, or better yet, kill the vampire and the result was unbelievable. It gave a howl of pain, covered its face with its hands, fell flat on his face and writhed on the ground. Smoke rose from its eyes as it twisted painfully on the pitched road. He had not the slightest clue to what was wrong with vampire, why rock-salt worked on it but not silver, since silver was supposed to have that very effect on it, but he was too preoccupied to care.

So without wasting another second, Sam pulled out a few rock salts from the back of the car, loaded his shotgun with them and began shooting wildly at everything. They were probably just a few hundred meters away from him. That bought him plenty of time to bring down quite a few of them.

”Dean,” he shouted, without turning back, still shooting and hitting a few of them. “Rock-salt works on them, take a few from the trunk.”

When Dean didn’t say anything for a long while, he stole a moment to check on him. Sam couldn’t see him anywhere. _Where is he?_ He thought, anxiety beginning to weigh on him.

He looked around himself, past darkened buildings, into pitch-black alleys, amongst white picket-fences and in the midst of hedges. Dean was nowhere. “Damn it Dean,” he said softly, craning his head, holding fire for a moment to search for his brother.

It wasn’t after a very long time that he saw Dean lying face-flat on the ground, seemingly unconscious. He was covered in greenish thick liquidy substance. Sam saw that his shotgun was at least a hundred meters away from his hand which was awkwardly position behind his back.

“Dean!” he yelled and ran towards him, giving hell to the group of monsters still on his track. He knelt down before him and shouted, “Dean, come on! Wake up, Dean…DEAN!”

Sam felt his pulse. It was beating, though rather meekly and he was still breathing, although there was a slim chance that he would wake up before the monster army would rip him into pieces. He was alone in this now. He and a few bullets made of rock-salt had to get through what seemed like at least twenty creatures and a chupaca-

_Wait a minute!_ A queer thought hit him. _Where’s the chupacabra-giant?_

And he would have found the answer had the host of monsters not closed in on him. In the course of yelling at Dean to wake up, the monster host had gotten enough time to pass the rest of the way unharmed. Moreover, a particularly brawly vampire was eyeing him with utmost loathing because, well, he had just shot it in the eye! With one deep crimson eye and one snow white eye locked on him, it was in the front of the monster-herd getting closer than ever now.

He hastily picked up his shotgun and banged it without even bothering to aim at anything. It hit a Daeva squarely in the chest and it fell on the ground with a crunch, but it was too little too late. Shooting one would help as much as a cane would to carve a Thanksgiving turkey. They were getting closer by the moment.

So he shot again. And again. And again. And again. But the number never seemed to decline. Instead, for every two monsters he shot, four came up to the front and continued charging. He knew that there was absolutely no way he would get out of this mayhem with his heart still intact. And Dean. There was a very good chance that he would never wake up from his sleep.

For all the good shooting did, he may as well have been _creating_ the monsters, because the more he shot, the more their number seemed to increase. Nevertheless, he didn’t give up.

There were a few more _bangs_ and then sure enough, a changeling slapped the shotgun out of Sam’s grasp. The gun flew into the air and landed over a hundred meters away with a clatter.

Seeing no other alternative, he inhaled deeply and punched the changeling right on its nose as hard as he could. There was a horrible _crack_ sound as his fist met its face.

For a moment he thought that it was the changelings face. Only after a second did he realize that it was his own hand that had fractured. Pain of unimaginable magnitude reeled through his body as he yelled in agony and staggered backward to gain composure.

Seizing the opportunity, a wendigo knocked him out of his legs. He fell head-first into the pitched road and he was flat on his back with a rout of monsters looking down on him. _This is it,_ he said to himself. _This is the end._

There was literally nothing he could do. He could barely even see the monsters because the pain was blinding him. Everything was blurry and he could hardly make out the shapes apparently hovering over him. Slowly but surely, he was slipping away. He saw a particularly large, bulbous shape astride him. When it raised its arm, ready to knock him dead, he saw a dazzling white light emanate from within its body. Then as the arm came down upon him, darkness engulfed him whole...


End file.
